I am sitting at my desk. I can feel the sun on my neck and when I turn my head I can see the plants on the bay window sill. The scented geranium, the lemon grass, two variegated ones I don’t know the names of, and nearer to me a palm that Tom gave me. On the far side is a large money tree, also from Tom, and at it’s feet an aloe vera. Outside the window there is the pomegranate, the tiny buds showing a red glow as they think about opening. There is also the cordyline that almost died, now firing up a new shoot covered with green blades which shake and quiver in the wind.

Sunday morning. Mother’s Day. Thoughts of my mother, long gone but very much remaining with me, still a guide, still a blessing.

Also on the window sill are a number of gnomes. Standing in a row there are Michael Coote (no relation), the one Erin gave me that she painted, the one Erin gave me that I painted, and the gay one (I think they’re gay, they have that flag). Hanging on a rope from the money tree are three who travelled across the road from No 74. I think they must have climbed in the window into the tree, and used the rope to climb down. I don’t know their names. Lastly, standing at the foot of the tree is Belsizio Andranticlaw. He claims to be the original gnome, at least a clone of the original gnome, which sits in splendour in the library at Lamport Hall. I happen to know he is a usurper, but I would never tell him that.

Now the nub. As well as the indoor gnomes, (oh, I forgot Ibble, Kibble and Dibble, indoor gnomes who live in a little wooden box), there are the outdoor gnomes. I will introduce them in the near future. For the moment I need to tell you this. From now on I plan to look after the garden in collaboration with the gnomes.

From now on I plan to look after the garden in collaboration with the gnomes. The garden is their home and they will have valuable opinions. Communication may be complicated but we will do our best. While I am on this subject it is probably worth mentioning that I will also talk to the plants, the bugs, the soil, the stones, maybe even the visiting cats. All these beings have sentience. They can help me. The way I see it, we have a government who think it is better to buy bombs than look after disabled people, a government that thinks it is acceptable to let these bombs be used to kill children. The clever people are making terrible decisions, so I want to see how I get on with the magical people. We might do a better job, and certainly we can make a garden.